


Blood of the Covenant

by star-ting-over (Goldridge2)



Series: Scale and Cloth [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Episode: s04e07 Darkness on Umbara, F/M, I wrote this fic for me but y'all can read it if you want, Krell's POV, M/M, OC features a lot, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldridge2/pseuds/star-ting-over
Summary: Pride comes before the fall. And before Pong Krell was a traitor, he was a Jedi. This is the story of how and why someone abandons their faith and their family and falls as farther than they ever thought possible.
Relationships: Dogma/Original Jedi Character(s), Mee Deechi/Original Jedi Character(s)
Series: Scale and Cloth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959676
Kudos: 8





	1. Violence is not the Jedi way

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the same universe as Thoughts on the Subject of Soulmates. That whole series came about thanks to one though I had, which was – What if Dogma's soulmate was Pong Krell's childhood best friend? – and that got my brain turning so I wrote this entire self-indulgent story about it. 
> 
> This is also going to become very Umbaran and Besalisk head-cannon filled because boy do I have a lot.

If Madam Jocosta cleared her throat one more time, Pong Krell was going to stab someone. Well maybe not, gratuitous violence was not the Jedi way after all, but he would definitely give it serious consideration. Glaring at the old librarian did not seem to be helping the situation, but it was a more engaging pass time that reading the Histories of Territorial Conflicts in the Mid-Rim, so Pong continued his one-sided battle of wills.

This did, however, leave him rather unprepared for a throat-clearing on an entirely different origin, just over his left shoulder. His rather un-Jedi like start, caused he knee to slam into the underside of the too-low table he was sat at. A pointed glare sent in the direction of the offending cougher, as he slid into the seat opposite did nothing so soothe the ache in the Besalisk’s knee.

“Slithering around in the archives is unbecoming of a Jedi, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from an Umbaran” Hissed Pong, a vain attempt to not disturb the other denizens of the library, who had already been thoroughly disturbed by the sound on a knee on ancient wood.

“Boneheaded inattention is unbecoming of a Jedi, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from a Besalisk” The words were not softened by the sharp smile and cool glint in the Umbaran Jedi’s eerily pale eyes. Pongs lip curled into a snarl. The Umbaran laughed.

“Did you need something, or are you simply here to injure me?”

“As a matter of fact, Master Windu has requested our presence in Mission Command. He attempted to message you, but it would appear that you have forgotten your communicator… again” Pale purple-grey eyes offered he him a pointed look. “Master Windu seemed to believe I would be able to track you down, I have no idea why”. The Umbaran’s airy tone belayed the truth, Pong knew that not a minute of the day went by that his former creche mate didn’t at least have some idea where he was. Windu knew that too.

“Well, we must not keep him waiting”.

Pong's chair scraped loudly against the tiled floor as he stood abruptly, earning a glare and an irritated grunt from the human master sat a handful of tables away. Out of the corner of his eye, Pong saw the Umbaran raise his hand in a half-hearted gesture of consolation. Pong himself made no such attempt.

The Besalisk long stride carried him out of the library, he didn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder to see if the Umbaran was following him after all the man never was never far from a shadow and Pong Krell cast a long one.

The halls of the Temple were teaming with life as always. Jedi of all ages going about their lives. They seemed to part like the sea in front of the pair. Even in a place like the Temple filled with every species, imaginable Pongs size made him stand out considerable. He relished this of course especially as Basilisks growth spurts happen rather later in comparison to other species. Pong Krell had spent the first 14 years of his life, barely reaching the elbow of his human counterparts before shooting up to being severely feet taller in just 3 years. He was appreciative of the change especially once he dropped the degrading nickname of ‘tiny’ his Umbaran friend had given him as 4 years old.

The clicking of the Umbarans boots on the tiled floor was jarring to Pong as they paced through the halls. For a man capable of moving silently and undetected by even the keenest of ears and sharpest of eyes, he certainly seemed to enjoy announcing his presence to Pong Krell.

“You know, I just had the oddest experience just before I came to find you…” Pong gave his friend a withering glare.

“I’m not interested in another story about what you saw Master Sinube doing, or where that stray Tooka your so fond of was sitting” Pong had heard far too many of his friend ‘interesting stories’, they were more often than not simply long rambling diatribes on some other Jedi or pointless incoherent stories about the wildlife that existed only to aggravate Pong. He had done such thing ever since they were children, as soon as they had discovered Pong’s preference for silence and the Umbaran’s force given gift to aggravating people.

“No… this isn’t that… this was different…I~” The Umbaran ran out of time to finish his story before they arrived at their destination.

The sunken floor of the Mission room held not only Master Windu but Master Tiin as well. The Iktotchi master spared a nod to Pong and a smile for Umbaran as he trailed Pong into the room.

“Knight Krell, Knight Khileah thank you for joining us” Master Windu intoned. “We have a new mission assignment, a request from the senate, we would like the two of you to handle it together”. Krell and Khileah inclined their heads, almost in sync.

“There has been, what we believe to be a credible threat made against the life of the Umbaran Senator, Senator Deechi. While the Coruscant police investigate this threat, we have been requested to ensure that Senator Deechi remains safe as he travels back to his home planet for the wedding of a close family member”. Pong could not stop the curl of his lips as at Master Tiin words. They were to act as glorified bodyguards. Two fully trained, competent Jedi Knights were being sent to babysit one Senator, it was absurd. Some of this sentiment must have been clear on his face.

“Knight Krell, you were selected for this assignment because of your expertise in threat analysis and hand to hand combat” Windu was expecting a fight then, interesting. His crèche mate’s amusement filtered through the force. Pongs skill in threat analysis was somewhat more pressed upon him than Windu’s words suggested, a by-product of the missions he was assigned rather than any fondness on his part. His intimating size meant he of often given these menial bodyguarding missions, more of a deterrent than an investigator. His combat skill, on the other hand, those he was proud of.

“and Knight Khileah?” The enquiry was something of a slight, but as far as he could see, his Umbaran friend was surplus to requirement.

“A personal request of the Senator, it would seem that Knight Khileah and he are… well acquainted” Windu didn’t bother to disguise the disdain in his voice, he contempt of the political machinations of the senate extending any Jedi who played a part in them.

And Chy Khileah certainly played a part in them.

Pong Krell knew all too well of the abilities his friend possessed, his natural Umbaran abilities in manipulation combined with he aptitude for the Jedis own brand mental manipulation made going up against him is Sabacc a losing prospect. Chy had taught him a few of his tricks over that years, but never enough to beat him at cards.

~ You will be playing politics one day soon Master Windu, maybe you should be taking notes~ The though flits from Pong's mind almost as soon as it arrived, but it left him a little cold nether the less.

Chy’s cool, sharp smile never dropped despite the contempt in Master Windu’s voice.

“I assure you, Master, I will full fill this mission with conduct befitting a Jedi knight and ensure my actions are a credit to the Order” From anyone else the word Chy spoke would seem mocking, or at least insincere but Chy devotion to the Jedi has always run a little to close to fanaticism for Pong’s taste. 

“Ensure that you do, you will leave in 2 days’ time” Another almost synchronised nod.

With that Pong turned to stride out of the room, glancing behind him he expected to see Chy at his shoulder but instead found that he was still stood next to the table, speaking to Master Tiin. They would be there for a while, Pong was sure. Never a man to wait around Pong stepped in the corridor, heading back to his quarters. He needed to pack.


	2. Monachopsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pong Krell was not a man who liked to simply sit on his hands. He also wasn’t one to allow himself to be blindly led into a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this chapter I would recommend taking a look at the first fic in this series, Thoughts on the Subject of Soulmates, in particular, Padme and Wolffe's chapters for an explanation of soulmate types in this universe as well as a bit more background on Umbarans.

They would be travelling on the senators’ personal ship. The long circular corridors were so different from any of the ships the Jedi had, browns and golds replaced by sleek white and steel grey. Pong had been aboard the ship for all of ten minutes, and the lighting was already messing with his head. Clearly designed with Umbaran eyes in mind the ship's lighting was half as bright as you would expect of a ship adhering to Republic standard shipboard light levels and all of the lights were tinged with a purplish-blue hue. It cast the faces of the ships Umbaran crew into sharp relief, making them look even more pale and emaciated than they did in standard lighting. Pong could make out only faint lines, and texture changes on the expansive white walls what would suggest that there was some sort of design or artwork that was out of Pong’s rang of vison. This thought was backed up by Chy who’s eyes roved the walls with a placid curiously, observing art that only Umbaran eyes could see. 

Pong wondered if it was intentional. Did the hidden art contain secrets that he wasn’t supposed to see, things he wasn’t allowed to know? The Umbarans were a secretive people, after all, Pong’s closest friend was one, and yet he knew almost nothing about them. The thought rankled with him. Or was it merely an oversight, after all, he was on an Umbaran ship, full of Umbarans heading to Umbara, why would they bother to create art for other when no others would even see it? Whichever the answer, it made Pong fell horribly, entirely out of place. It was not a feeling he was well accustomed too.

The Jedi temple was and always has been a diverse place. Few people of importance cared what species you were, all that mattered was your connection to the force. There were only 2 other Besalisks besides Pong currently in the Order, but that had never concerned him much. Either way, Master Danuo had taken him as his padawan as he had taken Knight Huwba. ‘Besalisks must stick together’ Danuo had told him, Pong had just rolled his eyes. Pong had asked Chy once if it had bothered him that he was the only Umbaran in the Order, Chy had given him only a long look in response. A short time later Chy had confided in him, in the darkness of an empty meditation room in the middle of the night that through the course of history there had been more Umbaran Sith than Umbaran Jedi. Pong had understood the implied weight of expectation those word held, the implied judgement his friend felt. He thought back to the conversation in Mission Control room, Windu’s judgement, the contempt he held for his friend, his anger burn bright for a second before he swallowed it down and released it into the force.

Pong’s eyes drifted back to his friend. His eyes were still on the wall around them, but after a second or two, his eyes drifted to meet Pong’s. Chy gave him a questioning look that Pong didn’t get a chance to answer before they arrived at their destination.

The large central lounge of the ship held a great many of Senator Deechi’s entourage. They were greeted with a sea of slender, pale figures, wearing all manner of cloaks and shrouds. The Umbarans were people of the shadows, and it seemed that where there were none, they brought their own. On Ojom to hide yourself away, to cover your face was seen as an act of cowardice but on this ship Pongs four bare arms felt a great deal more exposed.

The only comfort that he could draw was from Chy who like him was robes of muted brown, only he like his people had his hood drawn up to cover his face. His friend pale eyes seemed to glow in the shadow of the robe.

Senator Deechi gave a call across the room that Pong couldn’t understand. Next to him, Chy’s face broke into a smile as he raised his hand in greeting. Pong belatedly realised that the senator had called out the Umbaran form of his friend’s name.

The senator made across the room towards them, aides and representees falling aside to let him past. As he drew nearer, he and Chy gave a deferent bow, as Jedi were expected to do.

“None of that my friends, none of that! Welcome!” The senators barely glanced in Pong’s direction before moving to embrace Chy. Leaving his hands in place on the Jedi’s shoulders, he spoke a few words that Pong didn’t understand, and Chy replied in kind. Whatever was said prompted a laugh from Deechi and a rare genuine smile from Chy. Pong belatedly realised that the uncomfortable hot feeling in his throat was jealousy. He refrained from physically shaking his head to dispel the feeling. He was unsuccessful, he realised he would have given one of his arms to know what was being said. He didn’t have long to dwell as he realised the senator had turned back to him. Deechi raised his left hand across his chest, leaving it to rest flat just below his collar bone. Pong mirrored the gesture.

“Welcome both of you, please extend my thanks to the Jedi Order. I’m certain that it is an overreaction, but I certainly feel better knowing that we have 2 Jedi onboard.” The Senators word were light and friendly, but the smile on his face never quite reached his eyes when he was looking at Pong. It made him wonder exactly who had made the request to the Jedi Order for protection if Deechi was clearly not as happy with the prospect as they had first assumed. Pong glanced at Chy, who returned his question look. His friend had clearly been thinking the same thing.

“Forgive me, Senator, but we were under the impression that you had requested our presence personally.” He requested your presence, my friend, not mine, and this clearly wasn’t his idea. Pong projected the world into the force. Chy gave him an inscrutable look.

“I must admit that this was all Representative Moore’s idea, she insisted upon it in fact.” Pong almost laughed. Chy’s dislike for Sly Moore was not something he hid well, or even tried to hide at all. And speak of the devil.

“Ahh Representative, so glad you could join us.” Deechi’s greeting was jovial, but Pong watched as a cool impenetrable mask drew over the face of his friend. On the subject of cold, impenetrable masks Sly Moore’s was, as always, firmly affixed. A slightly hysterical part of Pong's mind wondered if the two of them were related. The woman seemed to glide up to the three of them, her long cloak trailing behind her. A subtle incline of the head was all the greeting the two Jedi received. She turned to Deechi and spoke quickly in lilting Umbaran. To Pong’s side, Chy narrowed his eyes at the words that were spoken.

“In basic, if you would Representative for the benefit of our Besalisk friend” Deechi’s words surprised Pong. Still, he was somewhat relieved to be able to understand what was going on. Moore’s eyes roved over him once, then twice. Pong had sudden and unexpected the urge to cover his bare arms, but he settled to crossing them instead, the top set over his chest, the bottom set behind his back.

“I was simply suggesting that an overabundance of caution is not a bad thing when one is dealing with extremists.”

“Extremists?” Pong felt a shiver run up his spine.

“A group of separatists advocating for secession from the Republic, of late their approach has moved from peaceful objection to more militant activity.” Deechi’s words surprised Pong. Everything he knew about Umbaran society told him the societal elites ruled with an iron fist. It made Pong wonder precisely how high up this movement went. The explanation left a bitter taste in Pong’s mouth, situations like this were unstable. All it would take is a single spark that could ignite a civil war, a spark like the assassination of a Senator. Terrible pieces were starting to fall into place for Pong. He drew in a deep breath and looked to Chy. He could see that the same pieces had begun to fall into place for his friend, worry swimming in his gaze. This warranted a good deal of further investigation. That being said, the guarding of the Senator was their highest priority and considering that he seemed to be central to the plot, it was likely that any trouble would come to them.

Pong Krell was not a man who liked to simply sit on his hands. He also wasn’t one to allow himself to be blindly led into a trap. Whoever these extremists were he didn’t know enough about them to predict their next move and the fact that this was the first time they were hearing of the group was concerning. How typical of the secretive Umbarans that they didn’t even tell the people they had asked for protection about who they were supposed to be protecting against.

“Why are the group so set on secession” Pong’s query was met with rather uncomfortable looks from Deechi and Chy and a raised eyebrow from Moore. Pong settled for giving his friend a hard look. So Chy knew more about this group than he was letting on.

“I think it would be best for you fellow Jedi to explain it to you at another time” Deechi answered eventually. “For now, please enjoy your evening” And with that, the Senator and Representative left them to go speak to other the guests who milling about the lounge.

The two of them spent most of the evening standing off to the side observing the room and its occupants, making polite conversation with other guests only when it was required of them. It rarely was, the Umbaran’s seemed to ignore the Jedi for the most part instead choosing to speak to their own kind in their own language. At least Pong has Chy to listen in for him in those instances.

After what they deemed to be an appropriate amount of time they excused themselves and returned to the quarters they had been allocated on the other side of the ship. The rooms consisted of 2 sperate bedrooms leading off a decently size common room. Upon entry to the room, Chy moved to a panel set into the wall, a few taps on unfamiliar symbols and the room's lights got significantly brighter and lost their bluish hue. It was a rather blatant peace offering and not one that would save Chy from Pong’s ire.

Pong was unwilling to break the silence, deciding instead to simply stand and stare pointedly at Chy. In the end, Chy broke the silence himself.

“You know, I had the strangest experience the other day…” Pong tilted his head to the side.

“Not this again…” Pong rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, I was meditating in a training room and…” Pong cut him off.

“We have more important things to be concerning ourselves with” the talk they had with Sly Moore and Mee Deechi had rattled him more than he was willing to admit. Chy face seemed to twist, and he looked as though he was about to argue, but thought better of it.

“Did you not think it was important to mention the active and apparently militant extremist group currently active on the planet we are travelling too?” Chy face twists as he looks away. Pong continues to press him.

“Why are the group so set on secession? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“It’s complicated” Chy tries. Pong just snorts.

“It always is” Pong begins to pace. Chy relents.

“Umbara threatened secession 3 years ago when the Republic announced its intentions to create the universal Soul mark Registry, Mee led the coalition of planets against the proposal. They failed to block the legislation, but they won an exemption from submitting the marks of Umbaran new-borns. This group believe that Umbara should have left the Republic regardless of the exemption, that Umbara remaining a part of an organisation that records the soul mark of new-borns is an aberrant and degenerate. They believe it makes us complicit in a practice that defies our moral and social conventions.” Pong resisted the urge to scream. Of course, this leads back to Umbarans weird hang-ups about soul marks. He told Chy as much. This friend narrowed his eyes.

“This isn’t a weird hang up, this is centuries of sincerity held beliefs and traditions” Pong isn’t convinced. He would admit that these beliefs were rather profoundly ingrained, even Chy had an odd attitude soul mark, and he had been raised mostly away from Umbaran culture. Pong had seen his mark once in a communal shower, typically something Chy refused to enter upon pain of death. Chy hadn’t spoken to him for a week after. Pong had assumed that he was embarrassed about the fact he had a Type B mark, something Pong also had, but in reality, it had been the fact Pong had seen his mark at all. Chy had explained that only a child’s parents and a specific family elder were allowed to see the mark, anyone else was a violation. Pong had been unconvinced but had apologies anyway. Chy had eventually forgiven him, but to this day, soul marks were a touchy subject between them.

Chy stood abruptly, clearly tired of this conversation.

“It's late, and I’m tired, I’m going to bed” then as an afterthought “we can discuss this more tomorrow”, and with that, he disappeared into one of the rooms leaving Pong along to curse the fact he was chosen for this mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than I normally write if you like that let me know!


	3. Trapped between two worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chy was skulking again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter was see more of Chy's conflict and Pong Krell's temper.

As it turned out, speaking more tomorrow included Pong rapidly firing questions at Chy over breakfast and receiving only short, unhelpful responses in return.

“What is the group called?” Something incomprehensible in Umbaran.

“How many people are part of this group” Unknown.

“Who is the group's leader?” Unknown.

“Why are they intent on hurting the Senator?” He is important on Umbaran.

“What are their tactics?” Unknown.

With each none answer, Pong's frustration with this friend only grew. Perhaps it was a little unfair the take his anger out on Chy he, at least on the surface, seemed to be as in the dark about the situation as Pong. Still, Umbarans could see a lot better in the dark than Besalisks, and if his friend had any helpful revelations, then he wasn’t sharing them with Pong.

It would take them another 3 days to reach Umbara. If his friend was this monosyllabic for the entirety of it, this was going to be a long trip. A day passed with few words exchanged between them, causing Pong began to worry about his friend.

In fact, if Pong didn’t know better, he would say that his friend was preoccupied. He seemed to take a great deal of interest in Representative Moore and her movements. He was considering calling his friend out for his obsession but as far as Pong could tell Moore was investing almost as much time in watching Chy. Pong decided it was best to leave them to whatever game they were playing and instead chose to look through the Republic Intelligence database for any information on this extremist group that seemed to be taking hold on Umbara.

As he suspected, the information was scarce. It seemed that the Umbarans seemed to be rather unwilling to share such information with ‘outsiders’. Pong was sensing a trend. He decided it was best to instead send an information request straight to the active surveillance branch of the service, requesting their most up to date reports. Pong was reasonably confident that this approach would pay off, he wasn’t afraid to use his status as a Jedi to get the information he needed, and Pong has always found that a brown robe and lightsabre could get you almost anything you required. People put a lot of faith in the Jedi, thought them untarnishable and incorruptible, Pong wasn’t going to go out of his way to disabuse them of that notion.

The next morning Pong went to track his fellow Jedi down. Chy was skulking again. Hanging at the edge of the central lounge of the ship, listening to come conversation or other, keep one eye of Sly Moore. Pong decided it was the opportune moment to interrupt and tell his companion a bit more about what was he had found, or not found as it seemed to be. Chy just nodded.

“You didn’t return to the rooms last night, is everything alright?” The question was finally enough to get Chy to look at him. It was a rather withering look.

“Everything is fine.”

“It’s a small ship, where did you go?”

“I was speaking with Senator Deechi.”

“All night?” Chy didn’t dignify that with a response. Pong decided to just leave it.

“I have sent a request to the Republic intelligence division for any information that they may have on the group in question.” Chy tilted his head back towards Pong.

“It may be worth speaking to the Corusaunt police intelligence as well, I believe that they are currently investing a sect of the group on the plant.” Pong could only stare at Chy. So he did know more about the group than he was letting on.

“Just how long have you known about this threat?” Chy still wouldn’t look it him although now it was becoming more of deliberate inaction than an oversight.

“A couple of months.”

“MONTHS” Pong had utterly forgotten that they were not alone in the room. The main lounge area fell silent with his shout, numerous sets of pale eyes turned to look at him. Chy was included in this count, he incredulous look only served to anger Pong further.

“Don’t look at me like that, months! And you only now decided to bring this up.” Pong's voice had not yet returned back to a volume that would have been considered appropriate for the Umbaran ship. Chy scowled and grabbed Pong by the upper arm and hauled him towards the door. Once outside, his friend rounded on him.

“Calm yourself, you're supposed to be a Jedi, act like it!” Pong snarled at his friend words.

“Do not deflect, you lied by omission, what else are you keeping from me.” Pong's teeth were bared, his worlds coming out as a snarl. He towered over Chy. If there was one thing, Pong couldn’t stand it was being deceived, being lied too, being kept out the loop. Chy knew this. He had known this since they were children. And he had lied to him anyway. The anger that bubbled up in Pong was white-hot and toxic, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force it back down. Chy reply was delivered with a sneer.

“Now you are just being paranoid, I have known about the group for a while. Mee told me about them. I didn’t know they were connected to this mission, I found you the same time you did.”

“WHO ELSE WAS IT GOING TO BE?” Chy sneer got colder and more mocking with each outburst from Pong.

“There are a great many people who would be advantaged by the death of a Senator and more than a few with the means to pay for it. I will contact the Coruscant Police Intelligence bureau. I would suggest you go somewhere and calm down so that you do not embarrass yourself further.” With that, Chy turned on his heels and left Pong standing the corridor fuming. 

***

As it turned out the suggestion to contact Coruscant Police Intelligence was a helpful one. Not that that made Pong inclined to forgive Chy. Less than a day after the request, a few hours before they were due to land on Umbara, Coruscant Police Intelligence contacted the Jedi council with information regarding the group. Master Windu released this information to Pong and Chy personal.

“It would appear that the extremist group that we have been warned about have been purchasing large quantities of a cleaning solution. This appears to be indicative of their ambitions to create some kind of explosive incendiary device” Chy’s brow furrowed at Windu’s words.

“Are you certain master? Historically Umbarans have shied away from such tactics in favour of more subtle methods.” Windu fixed Chy with a cold stare.

“More clandestine methods you mean. A change of tactics for the group then. This information had been ratified by the Jedi council we are confident in its validity.” Chy let out a noise that was dangerously close to a sigh. Pong didn’t miss it and judging by the way his eyes narrowed neither did Master Windu.

“We will inform the senator right away and make the necessary preparations” Both Chy and Pong gave a bow, still not quite in sync, as the holo-transmission signed off. Without a word, Chy turned to leave, Pong on his heals. They didn’t say a word to one another as they walked through the halls. Chy seemed to know where the Senator would be leaving Pong will little to do but follow in his wake.

They arrived at what Pong assumed to be Deechi’s private quarters. Chy rang the bell, and the door was answered by a strange-looking droid. It gave a bow and more aside to let them enter. The reception room was a lounge much like in their quarters they had been signed but larger and more opulent. There were a set of loungers in the centre of the room, on which sat Senator Deechi and Representative Moore. Pong could feel Chy’s irritation through the Force. Regardless Pong set about relaying Master Windu’s report to the Senator. There was a pause once he had finished before Moore spoke up. 

“If I may ask, where did you obtain this information?” Moore's head titled slowly to the side as she asked the question.

“The Coruscant police intelligence division has intercepted these communications and are taking them very seriously.” Chy cut in before Pong had a chance to defend his information.

“This does not match up with Umbaran intelligence on the subject, the use of explosives would be out of character for a group such as this,” Moore spoke as though the mere thought of the conversation was a grave imposition to her. It made Pong bristle. He did his best to bury the feeling, to behave as a Jedi is expected too.

“Perhaps they are shifting tactics.” Pong offered.

“With all due respect Master Jedi, I am more inclined to follow Umbaran intelligence on this matter, after all, they have more experience than outsiders such as yourselves on these matters.” That time Pong had a much harder time controlling his reaction, he crossed this top set of arms over his chest in what was clearly a defensive gesture. The ghost of a sneer that crossed Sly Moore’s face told him that she didn’t miss this. Chy cut in again.

“You asked for the Jedi’s aid in this Representative, why not listen to us when we are offering it. The Coruscant police are confident, and the Jedi Order has corroborated that this group are planning on detonating an explosive device at this event. It is in the best interest of all those attending that you take this information seriously.” Deechi gave a sound somewhere between a sigh and a throat clearing. The two quarrelling Umbarans fell silent at the noise.

“In this matter, I would have to agree with Representative Moore” Pong was surprised the intensity of the spike of anxiety Chy projected into the Force with those words. “this seems to out of character for an Umbaran group, perhaps the Coruscant Police Intelligence bureau are misinformed.”

“Mee…” The Senator's first name left Chy’s lips in a strangled gasp. The Senator lifted a hand, stopping whatever the Jedi was going to say in its tracks.

“Now if you would be so kind, we will be landing soon, and I need to prepare.” That was a dismissal if ever Pong had heard one, but Chy seemed to be rooted to the spot. Pong didn’t miss the sneer Moore gave as she passed them, on her way into the corridor. It made Pong's blood feel as though it was about the freeze. Chy still hadn’t moved, he and Deechi seemed to the locked in a silent battle of wills. Pong decided to leave them too it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't mean to make Mace Windu a dick but I need more conflict!


	4. Dead men tell no lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pong Krell, as a rule, did not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write and I'm still not 100% happy with it but oh well. Plot clarification details at the end of the chapter.

Pong Krell, as a rule, did not dream. Or more accurately, his dreams were rarely just that. The first time he dreamed or at least the first one he remembered was when he was a child. He had been standing on the courtyard of the temple with Master Albena. She was gazing up at the tree talking about some obscure flora in a far off part of the galaxy. Pong hadn't been listening, he was too busy watching a bird sat in the branches. It had had beautiful dark feathers that seemed to shimmer into blue when they caught the light. Pong had realised suddenly that Master Albena had stopped speaking when he had glanced to the side, he found that she was gone. He had glanced up to the tree to find the bird had vanished as well.

When Pong had awoken in the morning, it was to the news that Master Albena had passed away in the night. She had been the clan master for him and Chy. A ponderous old bat but Pong had always liked her. He hadn’t mourned her, it wasn’t the Jedi way, but part of him found himself wishing that he had listened to her words one last time, instead of watching that stupid bird, even if it had been a dream. She had been replaced by Master Sinube, who Pong didn’t like even half as much.

Chy had never really voiced his opinions on Master Sinube, or Master Albena for that matter. For all of the time he seemed to spend watching people, he rarely shared what he had learned. Pong had always assumed that Chy didn’t like Master Windu. Still, that was mostly based on Pong's opinion of how the man spoke to his friend rather than any confirmation from the Umbaran himself. Pong had wondered if Chy resented the fact that Master Tiin hadn't taken him as his padawan despite how close they were, but Chy had never given any indication that this was the case. Pong had always seamed him and Chy to be close, and by all accounts they were. To many at the temple, they appeared to be a package deal, where one was seen the other was rarely far behind. Still, this trip was highlighting to Pong how little he truly knew about his friend, how little the Umbaran shared about his thoughts and feelings.

Pong wondered if it was just him that was so quick to be driven to irritation and anger, but decided that it probably wasn’t as he watched Chy’s eyes narrow as Moore floated past them. Pong shook himself out of this thoughts and focused on the tack at hand.

The residence where the wedding was to take place was an opulent one. It possessed the same detached elegance that seemed to typify the Umbaran people. Everything seemed to be a sea of steely grey, purples and blues. The commonality you saw across the Republic was not present here, Umbara was a truly alien world. The strange protocol type droids from before were present in droves. Unlike the halting gate of the standard 3P0 droids that were so common on Coruscant, these droids seemed to move too fluidly, their limbs rippling with each set. Pong wasn’t sure if it was their unusualness that put him off, but to him, they were a little creepy. Chy, of course, didn’t give them a second glance.

As soon as they had landed, they had been shown the large hall at the centre of the residence where the wedding would take place. It was a nightmare for the security, of course, these places always were, but at least the head of security seemed like he knew how to do his job. He briefed then entirely upon landing and informed them of the measures that were already in place. He had the same sceptical look on his face when Pong informed him about the bomb threat that Representative Moore had worn when he and Chy had informed her. The same expression Chy had worn when Master Windu had first told them. Perhaps they were simply a sceptical group.

Pong and Chy had taking up their post and stood silently, watching as guests filtered in. Chy drew in a deep breath, shifting where he was standing.

“What?” Pong asked this question begrudgingly after his friends shifting and sighing began to get on his nerves. 

“I need to tell you about what happened to me before we started this mission” It was Pongs turn to sigh.

“I’m serious, I was in the training salle, meditating, and out of nowhere…” Pong had heard enough.

“Don’t you think you should be focusing on our task?” Chy didn’t seem to hear him.

“I thought it was a dream, but he seemed so real, it was like I knew him…” Pong tuned his friend out completely; one of them need to focus on the task in hand after all.

Reaching out into the Force, he attempted to sense the intentions for the guest filtering the room. He was expecting to feel happiness and joy he always associated with weddings, but he felt none of that. Mild irritation, curiosity and apathy seemed to be the prevailing feelings of the guests all suggesting that this was more than likely a political move than a love story. Pong wondered if the soon to be married were soulmates, he had to guess they were not.

The wedding ceremony itself was a rather dull affair. Monotonous words droned in a language Pong didn’t understand, some sort of ritual drinking from the same cup. The black faces of all of those attending was a little unnerving, but Pong pushed it to the back of his mind. He reached out into the Force to sense for any nefarious from those in the room. Pong stood towards the edge of the room, lurking at the back. Chy was sat next to Deechi toward the front. Pong thought that he might have seen the Senator place his hand on Chy’s knee, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

Something was wrong. The Force gave a shout of warning. Chy’s head snapped around to meet pongs eyes. His friend’s eyes were wide and as fearful as Pong had ever seen them. That was when he saw them.

They stood around the edge of the room, black cloaks shrouding them, flat opake black masks hiding their identity. They had steamily appeared form nowhere, ghost-like and silent.

“Clear the room” the voices emitting from under the masks was mechanical and in sync. Chairs scraped and crashed to the floor as the occupants of the room scrambled over one another to leave. In a vain hope, Chy caught Pong's eye and nudged the Senator towards the door. Two of the masked individuals moved to intercept them, forcing them back into the room.

“Not you” The masked men forced them back towards the centre of the room. Pong closed his eyes and reached out into the Force. He felt nothing from the 13 masked men that moved to encircle them. Chy voice sounded in in Pong's head. ‘Droids’. Pong drew his lightsabre, Chy did the same. Lashing out Pong sliced through the closest droid, it falling and a sparking heap. The other made no move to retaliate, drawing no weapons. All that the did was begin to emit a low whining noise had chilled Pong the bone.

Time slowed to a crawl. Pong went to move, but Chy was faster. Pong watched his friend pivot on the balls of his feet, turning to face him and Deechi. Pong watched as his friend extending his hands, palms flat towards them but didn’t register why until he felt the Force hit him like a speeder. He and Deechi were ripped from their feet and sent hurtling through the air, though the large ornate door as the end of the banquet room and into the wall of the corridor beyond.

Pong felt his ribs crack as he collided with the wall; he heard the Senator gasp with pain. Pong brought his head up and looked back towards Chy.

He was still stood in the centre of the room, left hand still raised, right hanging by his side. Pong was blinded by a bright flash seconds before the large doors slide shut. The powerful explosion was barely contained by ancient durasteel, chunks of plaster rained down from the ceiling. A screeching of metal sounded from the door as the metal heated and expanded cracking the stone frame. Acting upon instinct, Pong ignored the pain in his ribs and threw himself over the prone Senator. Reaching out with the Force, he managed to catch and redirect the door before it fell on the pair of them. Dislodged stone from the frame was another matter, however. Pong felt a blinding pain in the side of his head and then nothing but darkness. In the moments before he lost consciousness, he called out into the Force and for the first time since he was a small child, he didn’t get a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to create a bit of a confusing scenario as it was written from Krells POV. The plot to kill Deechi goes up very high in the Umbaran government. Deechi has a lot of public and political influence, and I have a head cannon he was pretty much single-handedly keeping Umbara in the Republic. So killing him give them cause for secession. Moore suggested bringing the Jedi in as a way to either eliminate or implicate them in Deechi death. I think she and Chy had something of a deadly game of chess going for a while and Chy lost. She knew that if the brought the Jedi in, Deechi would request that one be Chy, so the plot was a way to kill both in one swoop, implicating Krell in their deaths. Deechi survived scuppering the plan, but hey she got Chy. 
> 
> I think the relationship between Deechi and Chy is a genuine one, I left it pretty (maybe) ambiguous, but they do love each other.
> 
> **(( I really don’t think Anakin/Padme was the first Senator/Jedi relationship. Also, I think it adds an interesting dynamic to the fact that Padme and Deechi are soul mates in this universe and they both loved a Jedi, they have a lot more in common than they are able to admit))**


	5. No such thing as a good death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mourn him, you must not.

It was fairly clear early on to Pong that the Umbaran medic treating him really didn’t know anything about Besalisk physiology. He really lost faith when she uttered the phrase “Your ribs are broken… I think”. He discharged himself after that. He was after all fairly confidant that he wasn’t dying. He really needed to contact the council. Senator Deechi’s word from a day ago rang in his head.

“I have taken the liberty contacted the Jedi council regarding Knight Khileah’s tragic death, and his heroic sacrifice, I hope this is ok, I confess I do not know the standard procedure in these circumstances” Senator Deechi tilled his head as he studied Pong’s face.

“No, that is alright senator” He didn’t mention that the council almost certainly knew of Chy death before the senator had informed them. Master Tiin would have felt him join the Force. He also didn’t mention that the Jedi cared little for heroics.

“I do have one request to make of you my friend”, we aren’t friend, Pong bit the thought before it could escape. Deechi placed one thin gloved hand on Pong's wrist where hit lay at his side.

“We Umbarans are so very set in our ways as I’m sure you have seen” the senator removed his hand for a second to gestured to nothing in particular. “By our tradition, we would like to honour Knight Khileah by interring him in the Hall of the Fallen, beside his grandfather” Some part of Pong's memory dredged up that Chy grandfather had been some kind of military leader.

“My apologies Senator but we, the Jedi, have our own ways of honouring those who have joined the living force” Deechi’s hand withdrew from Pong's wrist.

“On Umbara we believe that those who die honourable deaths become one with the world around us, that we live on as part of the planet, watching over those who we left behind,” Pong thinks that might have been the most sincere thing he had hear the senator say. “Please think on our request my friend” and after a beat “it what that Chy would have wanted”. With that, Deechi left Pong to his thoughts.

As Pong waited for the comm to the council to go though he gazed out of one of the expansive windows on the right side of the room. The strange glow of the flora of the planet seemed all the eerier for the Senators words. Was his friend out there, watching him, one with the shadows that covered his homeworld? Pong shook the thought from his head. All Jedi knew that you join the living Force when you die, there is nothing more to it than that.

A chirp behind him informed him that the Comm had connected. One by on the forms of Master Windu, Master Yoda and Master Tiin materialise withing the strange blocky ether of the Umbaran holocomm.

“Knight Krell, I am glad to see that you are well” are you, Master Windu?

“Thank you, Master, it grieves me that Knight Khileah is not here to make this report with me”.

“One, he is, with the Force now. Mourn him, you must not” Pong's sharp teeth ground against one another. 

“Of course, Master” Pong began his report, sparing no details, starting when they had stepped onto the senator’s ship and ending when he had woken up, alone, in an Umbaran medical facility. The words seem to flow out of him like a river. He had no control of the content of the report as his mind dredged every detail of the last four days. The three masters on the screen were silent and unmoving. The only response to his words that he received was a slight shake of the head from Master Windu as he recounted how Senator Deechi had dismissed their concerns of a bomb when Chy had brought them before him.

“Thank you for your report, Knight Krell. The council will discuss what you have told us, we will speak again when you return to the temple” What else was there to discuss? Pong leant forward, placing his first set of arms on the holo table and folding the second behind his back.

“Was there something else Knight Krell?” Master Tiin’s voice reverberated in Pong's head.

“Yes, Master there was. It concerns Chy… Knight Khileah…”

“Yes?” Windu’s voice was getting colder.

“The Umbarans wish for him to be laid to rest here, in the Hall of the Fallen” to honour his sacrifice. Pong's eyes did not stray from the holographic version of Master Windu’s feet. Each breath hurt, his fractured ribs protesting.

“Inform them that we are deeply sorry, but we cannot honour that request” Master Windu’s voice was cold, dispassionate as though wasn’t requesting that Pong inform the Umbaran people that the Jedi were not willing to allow them to bestow one last thanks upon their fallen brother.

“Laid to rest in a manner befitting the Jedi he was, he will be” Master Yoda chimed in, a sharp tap of his cane seemed to cut through the transmission, punctuating the finality of his words.

“With all due respect…” Pong began, but his words were cut off with a raise of the hand from Master Tiin.

“Chy was a Jedi first and an Umbaran second, as we all are when we swear our lives to the order” the words were soft and his eyes sad. Pong looked him in the eye and even across thousands of parsecs and a grainy holo-transmission, he felt the Jedi master’s pain. He had lost his dearest friend, but Master Tiin had lost his foundling, the closest thing he had to a son. Pong lowered his gaze, his chest hurt.

“I will inform them,” he said with a nod. The nod was returned by the 3 master, and one by one their images winked out, leaving Pong in comparative darkness. One last glance out of the large window, Pong could have sworn that someone was watching him.

***

Pong struck the chime on the door to Senator Deechi’s with slightly more Force than may have been strictly necessary. The door was answered by one of the strange protocol type droids, it stepping aside to allow him entrance to the apartment. On the soft furnishings at the centre of the room sat the senator, broken arm cast and resting on a set of cushions, opposite him sat Representative Moore, her hands folded elegantly in her lap. They continued their conversation as though Pong did not exist, their words in the impenetrable lilting cadence of their mother tongue. Before this mission Pong had only ever heard words like those whispered from Chy lips as they bent over old Jedi text in the archives late at night. Pong's ribs ached a little more at the memory.

Pong thought that he might recognise some of the words, but he wasn’t sure. It was forbidden for an Umbaran to teach an outsider the Umbaran language, and no matter how he tried Chy would never relent to teaching him even in secret. He had never said why but if Pong knew anything about Umbarans then it was that the fear of dire consequences and archaic modes of punishment that were the tool of choice for the ruling elite when it came to enforcing Umbara’s numerous and complex laws and traditions. Perhaps that’s why Chy got on so well with the Jedi code; it was a good deal simpler and more lenient than the one he was born into. He had gotten on with the code, past tense.

As Pong stepped further into the room, the two Umbarans finally turned to look at him. Their pale eyes seemed to be drilling into his soul. They very well could be, the Umbaran ability to worm their way into your mind, with or even without a word was not something a prudent Jedi could underestimate.

“Senator Deechi, Representative Moore” he inclined his head to each of them in turn. Moore rose gracefully from the lounger, her face never dropping its cold mask. She inclined her head in reply.

“Master Jedi” she turned back to the senator, gave a slight bow and uttered a few Umbaran words and glided out of the room. Pong watched her go. Her pale skin and clothes shone in the low light of the room, but she seemed to draw shadows in around her. Chy had never trusted her and Pong, to his shame, was only now beginning to see why, her presence left an odd metallic taste in his mouth, like a missed note in a symphony or the hiss of a serpent before it struck.

“My friend, please, sit” Pong turned back to the senator as the man gestured the seat opposite him, just vacated by the Representative. Deechi’s eyes roved over Pong, who felt oddly like he was being dissected.

“Here” Deechi gestured to one of the odd protocol droids, it drifted over hand handed an object to the Senator. Pong's ribs screamed at the sharp inhale he gave once he realised that it was. In the Senators hand was a metal cylinder, half-melted. The distinctive spiral of metal around the emitter had melted away entirely and the half the metal panels on the sides of the grip were missing, but it was defiantly Chy lightsabre.

Deechi just held it for a second, looking at the object seemingly lost in thought before snapping back to reality and extending his good arm to hand the lightsabre to Pong. He took it without a word. It was even more mangled up close than it had been from a distance. The compartment that held the kyber crystal had been blown open; the green crystal inside had been cracked in two.

The sabre had long since cooled down from the explosion, but it burns in Pongs hand.

“Did you have a chance to speak to the council regarding our request?” Deechi seemed to be struggling to break his gaze away from the lightsabre in Pongs hand.

“Yes, I’m sorry Senator, but the council insisted that he be buried as a Jedi at the temple as per our tradition.” Deechi’s face darkened.

“Ahh yes, incinerated in a pit, surrounded by people who had no respect for him, thousands of parsecs from where he belonged. How fitting.” Deechi spat the words like venom, anger evident on his face. The vitriol shocked Pong, unused to seeing a member of a species renowned for their control so unguarded, so raw. Some of his surprise must as have shown on his face for as soon as the Senator's mask had dropped, it was back in place. Pong steeled himself.

“He was a Jedi first and an Umbaran second.” He echoed Master Tiin’s words from earlier. A bitter smile flicked across Deechi’s face.

“That he was”.

This must have been how Chy felt. The thought was an intrusive one, worming its way into Pong's mind. Your own objections and beliefs irrelevant, reduced to merely a mouthpiece for the Jedi to espouse their dogma. To be dismissed at every turn no matter what you said or did, or who you fought for. The though brought hot rage simmering to the surface, something Pong had a harder and harder time controlling.

***

That night Pong dreamed on a human boy lying on a cold white floor, screaming as he burned. The mark that covered his body a perfect match of the one his friend had had. That boys’ screams echoed around Pong’s head until he woke, his dream forgotten. As the years went on, such a dream paled into insignificance under the weight of the dreams that tormented him every night. Pong remembered this dream only once more when that same boy drew a blaster from his brother belt and shot a bolt through Pong’s heart.


	6. The same souls in different people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pong suppressed a smile, that would make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time jump to the Umbara Arc...

The sound of the door opening was not enough for Pong to turn around, absorbed as he was in the terrain map in front of him. It was almost too easy, the perfectly situated valley leading to a lofty goal. Kenobi required his help. But the Jedi couldn’t be saved, he knew that now and he would be damned if he was going to fall with them. The Jedi whose laws and code we more import to them than the future they were supposed to be defending. The Jedi who built themselves an order of peacekeepers but sent their men, women and children into a war as though they were little more than the weapons the good citizens of the Republic saw whenever they drew their lightsabres. The Jedi who knelt to the senate as though a room of ponderous bureaucrats were the spine of the Republic and not the force users who had forged it with there blood and sacrifice. The Jedi had engineered their own destruction, and the Republic was footing the bill.

The kyber crystals in his green sabre hummed at a dissonant cord the ones in his blue, and it scraped against his psyche. They had always run with a different tone, but the discord had become more pronounced in recent months. The lightsabre housed the shattered halves of Chy’s kyber crystal, and if Pong didn’t know better, he would say that they were trying to torment him. Each time he drew, it seemed to burn into his palm, each spike of anger that drove him these days was returned tenfold by the weapon. The shadows of Umbara clung to the weapon like they had clung to the crystal’s former master.

Pong’s mind began to drift as it had so often begun to do. His dreams seemed to whisper terrible tales of destruction and woe. Voices from the darkness dripping poison in his ears. Every night he watched the Temple burn and all he could think as it happened was good. Let it burn. Let the whole Order burn if it has too. Pong wasn’t going to burn with them. The Umbaran shadows seemed to descend on him from every direction like the tentacles of those ghastly creatures. He felt as though there were eyes upon him, staring accusation into his soul at every turn.

There was the soft sound of a throat being cleared behind him, but Pong mind couldn’t quite shake the shadows fast enough. Not bother to even glance behind him he muttered.

“Slithering around in the archives is unbecoming of a Jedi, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from an Umbaran”. There was a long pause, the reply he was expecting not forthcoming.

“Umm Sir?”

Pong wheeled around with a speed only a Jedi could manage, startling the clone just behind his left shoulder. Instead of icy pale eyes, he was met with golden brown, a perfect match for a thousand other pairs shuffling around the base. There was not a sharp smile, cool laugh or witty retort: only wide-eyed fear and shallow breaths. CT – 5393, Dogma his brain supplied, shook a little where it stood.

“All of the Umbarans are still in the holding cells sir… I have the status report you requested” a shaking hand held out a datapad.

Pong remembers the last time he was on this Force forsaken planet. Senator Deechi’s words about the Umbaran afterlife. Deechi was dead too now, his death had sparked the very secession that had brought Pong back to this awful place. Maybe his eyes had joined the thousands that watched Pong from the dark. These days Pong found himself questioning the teaching of the Order more and more, so he supposed he could now add death to the list.

Every fibre of his being, every whisper in the Force told him that Chy had been stood behind him. That they were young men again, in the Jedi Archives bickering as though one of them wasn’t a dead man and the other wasn’t planning the betrayal of everything they had once held dear. But he was not in the archives, he was in a captured airbase on the planet where he should have let them bury his friend. It had been years since he had uttered those words. 

“Sir… why were you expecting an Umbaran?” From the look on its face, Dogma regretted the question before it had even asked. Fantastic, a clone who couldn’t keep its mouth shut, even for its own self-preservation, who was straying a little too close to the truth, all because of Pong's own inattention.

Pong wondered how easy it would be to hide this clone’s disappearance from its brothers. No, that Captain, CT – 7567, was already too suspicious of him. A different approach was needed then.

“Dogma, was it?” He ignored the clone’s question entirely. He weaved the Force into his voice, just like Chy has taught him.

“Y-Yes, sir” Dogma looked him straight in the eye. Pong suppressed a smile, that would make things easier.

“Dogma, you don’t need to concern yourself with the Umbarans” he pressed with the Force now, working it into the cracks in Dogma’s mind. And there were plenty of cracks for him to use. The clones mind seemed to unravel before him.

Rooms falling silent as it steps through the door, backs turned, suspicious eyes. Excellent, it looks like this one is a bit of a pariah, that could be useful, and even if it isn’t, the others are unlikely to listen to this one anyway. The more Pong saw, the easier it was.

An empty space when a soulmate should be. Its mark scarred over when it was young. It screamed as its mark burned, the memory chilled Pong for a reason he couldn’t name. No matter, it was much easier to influence one mind than it was to try and influence two. Not that it's going to take much to influence this one. The mindless loyalty to the Republic seemed woven into the core of who the clone was, a blind fanaticism born of a fear that without its mate, it would never be whole, would never be enough. This was almost too easy.

It was a trivial thing for Pong to pull the wool over the clone’s eyes, to lead it away from doubt or suspicion, it was more than happy to be led. Psychic manipulation was a blunt tool in Pongs hand, but Chy had made sure to at least teach him somethings. Pong was grateful for that now.

~Chy would have liked this one, they are cut from the same cloth~ The though almost made Pong scoff. The idea that his friend would have had anything in common with the misbegotten creature, little more than a failed science experiment, was laughable.

“It’s often the ones closest to us that we need to worry about most” That was all it took for Pong to plant the seed of doubt in the Clones mine. Its brothers didn’t trust it, now it didn’t trust its brothers.

Pong laid one large hand on the clone’s shoulder as he withdrew from the creature’s mind. Its eyes were unfocused, a light sheen of sweat covered its brow. A thin trickle of blood ran from the clone’s nose. Ahh, unfortunate, a blunt weapon indeed. 

“I’ll, I’ll keep an eye on the others for you.”

“See that you do. If you see anything suspicious, you tell me, understand?”

“Yes, sir” The clone snapped to a solute. Pong turned back to the map table. He listened as the door behind him opened and shut again. He had a feeling that that little clone was going to come in handy.

***

Pong almost laughed. The Captain’s hands shook, a potent mixture of fear and rage seeming to drown the clone. It couldn’t pull the trigger. Not matter what Pong had done, the danger he posed, the Captain couldn’t do it. It would appear that the Jedi’s weakness had wormed its way into their clones as well. There is no such thing as mercy in War.

The blaster bolt burned through Pong's chest, his own shock following quickly behind. The Captain… no, not the Captain… the boy, the one on the cold white floor, Pongs little puppet. As his body hit the ground Pong didn’t see a white light, no he could have sworn he saw a set of pale eyes or were they golden brown? Either way, they were filled with rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that Krell constantly refers to Dogma as an “it” is intentional. I think it's pretty clear in the Umbara ark that Krell doesn’t really consider clones to be people. I also have this idea that in the force Type B soulmates would be almost indistinguishable from one another at first 'glance'. 
> 
> Now we had reached the very angst-filled conclusion that Krell used a form of Jedi mind manipulation (that Dogma’s soul mate taught him when they were young) on Dogma during the Umbara arc, something Dogma was more susceptible too than other because his soul mate was dead. I couldn’t decide which is more heartbreaking, that Krell knows that Dogma is his dead best friend’s soul mate and uses him anyway, or that he has no idea. (oh and all this manipulation happened on said dead soul mates home planet, where he died, saving Krell… Yeah, I may have gone a little overboard on the angst for this one).


	7. Repressed Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their eyes met, the man drew himself up in a single fluid motion, almost cat-like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue - From Dogma and Chy's point of view.

As a child, before he was Dogma, he had had a dream. This wasn’t the kind of dream one forgot once they woke. No, this dream chased him into the daylight, clung to his mind, like a thick mist, haunting everything he did. Tup talked about his dreams sometimes, but they sounded different, scarier, more impossible than this one. This dream was almost jarring in its simplicity.

He was in a training room. It was completely empty save for a single figure. Cross-legged on the floor, this figure sat with his back to Dogma. They were covered from head to toe in brown and beige, their back straight, gloved hands folded in their lap.

Dogma walked to circle the man, keeping his distance. Their grey-white hair was pulled into a tight bun, making their angular, harsh features stand in even sharper relief. The man’s eyes were closed.

Just as Dogma came around to their front, the man’s eyes snapped open. They were so pale they seemed to glow, almost white but for the barest hint of purple, like the shadows under his eyes and in the hollows of his temples.

As their eyes met, the man drew himself up in a single fluid motion, almost cat-like. He towered over a young Dogma. The man didn’t say a word, simply tilted his head to the side.

It was at this moment of the dream that Dogma realised that he wasn’t in a cadet training room as he had first thought. He was in a different kind of training salle. The central square slightly raised, the benches around the outside of the room had been replaced with racks of weapons, wooden bo-staffs, and silvery cylinders on sets of shelves. The room wasn’t the standard Kamino grey and while but instead a warm brown like the man’s robes. The light filtering through the skylight wasn’t the grey of a Kaminoan storm, but instead, a soft gold light, like Dogma had never seen.

The man didn’t speak, simply stood there looking at Dogma, a silver cylinder abandoned on the floor by his feet. The man took a single step forward; Dogma took a single step back. In doing so, he collided with one of the racks, knocking one of the silver cylinders to the floor. It rolled a meter or two before stopping. The man stood staring at the where the cylinder had come to rest before his eyes flickered back to Dogma.

The man opens his mouth to say something, but there was a sudden trill from the communicator attached to the leather belt around his waist, and that was when Dogma woke up.

He wouldn’t say that it was a bad dream per se, but it wasn’t a good one either. Something about the man seemed so awfully familiar. Still, everything about him from his features, to his clothes was so utterly alien to Dogma. Seven days later, just after the evening meal, he and his batchmates were walking back to their sleeping pods, Dogma or 93 as he was known then, felt a pain, unlike anything he had ever felt.

It was as though every inch of him had been set alight, skin and flesh burnt away to the bone. He could taste ash on his tongue, he could smell burning flesh, and he could hear screams of agony twinned with his own. His batchmates hadn’t known what was happening, only that one minute their brother was fine the next he was writhing on the floor in agony. Between them, they had managed to drag him back to the bunk room, away from the eyes of any of the trainer who went known to be forgiving of cadets, causing a disturbance.

He had gone limp eventually, his heart stuttering, feeling as though it was about to stop. Sometimes he wished that it had. The scar of his soul mark was a tight cord wrapped around his body and his mind. The man in the training room haunted his dreams. Well, perhaps haunted wasn’t quite the right word, that suggested that the intention was malicious. He never felt any ill will from the man, just a flash of pale eyes here and there, like he was watching Dogma.

The first time Dogma saw a Jedi was when General Shaak Ti arrived on Kamino. They were training in a wide-open hall when Dogma caught a glimpse of her on the balcony above. It was all he could do not to stare openly. He did better than many of his brother in this regard. Rook looked as though his eyes were about to fall out, and Tup wasn’t doing much better. In the mess hall later he was forced to sit and listen to a gaggle of his brother talk about how regal and beautiful she was but if Dogma was honest with himself, he hadn’t noticed much about her at all. His focus had been taken up by the robe she had been wearing, a Jedi robe as it turned out. Just like the man from Dogma’s dream.

***

“They are force damn creepy if you ask me, the way they stare” Hardcase shuddered under the gaze of the imprisoned Umbarans. Dogma for his part had to reluctantly agree with him. The two clones had just finished corralling that last of the prisoners on the holding cells the airbase had ready-made for them. They talk rapidly in their own language, eyes never leaving the clones. Dogma shivered but couldn’t look away. He did not wake up this morning expecting to have a staring match with a bunch of separatists, but here he was.

He had spent years wondering about the man in his dream. A swish of beige robes out the corner of his eye that couldn’t belong to General Skywalker or Commander Tano. Something or someone was watching him from the shadows. He had never seen anyone like the man. Not until he landed on Umbara. Gaunt, hollow faces, eery eyes that seemed to look through you, slender frame. There was little doubt in his mind that the man was an Umbaran, and Umbaran Jedi no less. A dead Umbaran Jedi, Dogma though perhaps it was good that the man had never lived to see his people betray the Republic.

“Take the report to Krell, would you?” Hardcase shoved the datapad into Dogma’s hand. Dogma scowled. Hardcase give him a slightly harder then friendly slap on the back and walked out the door leaving Dogma alone with the Umbarans. Dogma sighed and headed in the direction he knew the Besalisk would be. If Dogma were honest, he would say that the new General terrified him. Every time he stood in his vicinity, it was like the universe was screaming a warning at him. Dogma shook off the feeling; it was irrelevant. Krell was his general, and Dogma would obey his General.

***

As Chy stepped forwards, the boy took an abrupt step back, fear clear on his face. He collided with one of the racks that held the training lightsabres the initiates used, one rolled across the floor. The boy seemed to regard it like it was a live snake, something sure to cause him harm. Not an initiate then. The boy currently wasn’t dressed like one. Perhaps he only just been brought to the temple. Maybe he had gotten separated from his finder. Chy was about to ask when his communicator sounded.

Chy gaze flickered to his belt for a fraction of a second, but when he looked up, the boy had vanished into thin air. Chy eyes roved the room as the communicator chimed again, but the boy had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. That explained why Chy had not heard him enter.

Chy clicked his communicator on, Windu’s voice sounded loud and clear.

“Knight Khileah, I have need of you and Knight Krell for a mission. He is, however not answering his communicator, could you retrieve him and meet me in the mission control room?”

“Of course, Master, right away” the communicator clicked off. Chy felt a flicker of irritation at being sent as an errand boy to find his creche mate but let it go easily. Windu wasn’t wrong in assuming he knew where his friend was.

Before he left find Pong in the Archive, Chy wandered over to where the training sabre had fallen. This object was the only proof that the boy hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. He had seemed so familiar though Chy was sure he had never met the boy in his life. How curious. He really had to discuss this with Pong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, who read this. It's my first attempt at a long-form story (not just a series of one-shots) so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> If anyone had any prompts for this AU (or any others if I'm honest) I would love to hear them. Writing is my escape from Uni work... Just drop a comment or an Ask on my Tumblr which is also star-ting-over.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note - I love Mace Windu as a character and don't mean him to come off as an ass but I do think there is a lot conflict between him and Chy.


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